Safe
by Banshae
Summary: Alex's POV after Blind Spot. BA shippiness and angst. Now COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

"Safe"

By: Banshae

Rated: M for language, adult situations

Spoilers: None (unless you haven't seen Blind Spot)

Summary: This takes place after Blind Spot. Alex's healing after her kidnapping ordeal.

B/A shippiness and plenty of angst.

Reviews: Please!

Disclaimer: I don't own CI, I don't make money from this, all the characters belong to Dick Wolf and his writers, yadda yadda yadda. You know the score.

A/N: this is my first CI story, so if I get any of the canon wrong, let me know!

Chapter 1:

_she screams_

_my heart pounds and I struggle against the bindings again, but my feet are too far off the ground and there's not enough purchase. _

_the screams have dwindled to broken, desperate whimpers_

_the sound of a curtain being drawn back, metal rings sliding on metal_

_fear explodes in my stomach- it's dark behind the blindfold, but I can feel my captor's presence like the shadow cast by a cloud moving over the sun_

_no coherent thought now, just the reek of blood and damp and fear- is it my turn to suffer?_

_cold metal touches my cheek…_

I scream and struggle up from tangled sheets. At first I confuse the dark of my bedroom with the darkness of the blindfold in my dream, but a moment later the steady display of the digital clock on the dresser comes into focus: 4:04am

Choking back a sob, I disengage myself from the sweaty bedsheets. My hands shake as I flip the switch in the bathroom and turn on the faucet to splash cool water on my face until my breath and heart have slowed. Finally I shut off the water and return to the bedroom.

I'm exhausted, but the bed doesn't look at all inviting to me. If I lay down again, there's no guarantee that I won't have another nightmare. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror over the dresser- I look like shit: pale, tired, eyes ringed with dark circles.

It's been nearly a month since Jo kidnapped me and the marks on my wrists have faded. I still have headaches once in a while from being knocked upside the head, but physically I'm almost back to normal (whatever _that_ is). Emotionally, though….I've been a cop long enough to know that a traumatic experience like mine takes a long time to heal. _If_ it ever heals. My department-issued shrink seems to think I'll be ok eventually.

Am I fooling her? Myself?

It's been nearly a month and I'm still waking up at night shaking, slick with sweat and reeling out of horrifying dreams.

Nearly a month and I can't shake the image of the poor video store clerk Jo tortured to death while I hung from my wrists, blindfolded and gagged only a few feet away.

Nausea grips my stomach and I barely make it to the toilet in time to lose the remnants of my meager dinner. Afterward I lay on coolness of the tile floor, hugging my knees to my chest. Hot tears are sliding down my cheeks.

Nearly a month….

I'd stayed in the hospital only a few days. The docs wanted me to stay longer but I was done with them. I didn't take any phone calls after I got home, especially not from anyone at the precinct. Of course I reassured my sister that I was fine….but I ducked the calls from the captain, my new shrink and even from Bobby.

The first night I spent at home didn't go well. Truth be told, most of the nights since then haven't gone well either. My shrink keeps asking me how I'm sleeping- do you think it would raise eyebrows if I admitted that the only way I can fall asleep is with my gun under my pillow?

Going back to my squad after the department-imposed 10 day leave was harder than I thought. Everyone was so concerned about how I was feeling…After hearing "Are you ok?" for what had to be the 50th time before I even reached my desk, the only thing I could do down to the shooting range and empty clip after clip into the targets.

That's where Bobby had found me.

"Eames."

I turned, taking off my ear protection and putting the gun down. He was looking at me with a strange expression on his face, one I couldn't quite read. The firing cubicle was so tight that he was standing practically on top of me and I had a moment of claustrophobia that made my stomach roil.

Ever perceptive, he saw my discomfort and backed up to give me more room. "Eames," he said again. Softer this time but with that same look on his face- the one I'd seen every time I opened my eyes at the hospital.

I couldn't meet his gaze anymore and turned back to retrieve my target. Distantly I noted that I hadn't lost my touch- there were multiple holes nicely clustered in the chest and head zones. "You don't need to say anything. You've said everything already."

A chuff of air, halfway between a snort and a sigh, "I haven't said much to you since you checked yourself out of the hospital AMA and won't return my calls."

I whirled on him, "You and I both know it's not your fault that Jo kidnapped me. You don't need to apologize for that crazy bitch. She was just another perp who got her jollies by hurting and killing…whether it was me or one of the other victims…I was just convenient."

He shifted his weight, "She picked you because she was trying to hurt me. I should have seen it."

"No, she picked me because I was convenient. A means to an end. She wanted to get even with her father for ignoring her all her life. Declan paid more attention to psychotic murderers than to his own daughter. It's all so obvious," I realized my voice was getting louder and forced myself to lower my tone. The range was quiet- no one else was shooting this early in the day. "Jo knew that if she killed me, she not only hurt her father, she also got the bonus of hurting you….and you were like a son to Declan. She could get even with both of you in one stroke.

"But if it hadn't been me, she would have settled for just torturing someone else to make Declan look stupid." I holstered my gun and faced him once again. "We're partners, right?"

Of course."

"Do you still trust me?" I'm not sure what he expected me to say, but I doubted it was that. "Do you?"

It was a legitimate question; our lives depended on each other every day. Up until now I had always been the stable one…the one who held him back when he got too wrapped up in a case. Now I had my own problems.

He didn't even hesitate, "You're my partner. I don't need anyone else."

"Then leave the apologies alone and let's get back on the job." I said, brushing by him.

And that had been the last time I'd allowed him to talk to me about the whole thing.

In the past month, I had gotten very good at acting like everything was normal. I was so good at it, I was nearly fooling myself….at least during the day. The nights were another matter.

And then today, a new case had come across our desks that had cracked my façade of normalcy. It had been the crime scene photos that had done it: page after page of the victim, bound and gagged (_like I had been_), her body a mass of bruises and cuts. She'd been savagely beaten and tortured by the perp or perps, then left to die. It wasn't the absolute worst case I'd seen, but gazing at the photos made my whole body go numb.

It must have showed because the captain came over, "Eames, you gonna be okay with this one?"

Bobby was eyeing me, "Maybe we can pass this one along to Jensen and Ruscinski, Cap?"

"I'm fine!" I had snapped angrily. "I'm better than okay. Let's just get on this case and catch whoever did this." Turning my back on them, I had begun working on the computer. Neither man had said anything else and the rest of the day passed in a blur.

Now here I was, twelve hours later, lying on my bathroom floor with the taste of bile in my mouth and tears in my eyes.

_Who am I fooling? I don't feel safe anymore…I carry a gun and I'm supposed to be protecting everyone but I don't even feel safe in my own home. Christ, what I'd give to feel safe again. _

My cell phone rings and I jump to my feet, startled. Picking it up off the nightstand, I see Bobby's number on the display. A call at 4am?

"Eames," I say into the phone. My voice is husky and cracked.

"It's me," he says unnecessarily. "Were you asleep?"

"Yeah," I lie, "What's up?"

"I- uh- I need to talk to you." Now he sounds….nervous? Sometimes it's hard to tell with him, despite the fact that we've been partners for years now. "Can I come over?"

"Now?" I'm a little surprised but then realize that if he came over, I wouldn't have to worry about going back to sleep. "What is it?"

"Just…" he pauses and I have a mental image of him cocking his head as he speaks into the phone. "Please, Alex. It's about you." Another pause, longer this time. "It's about us."

I'm too tired and too wound up to argue. I'm tired of feeling scared and I'm tired of being angry with him. I want to feel safe tonight and I know that he would die to protect me. I also know that he's right: there are things we need to say to each other. The silence between us stretches out till finally I say, "The front door will be unlocked."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

"Safe"

By: Banshae

Rated: M for language, adult situations

Spoilers: None (unless you haven't seen Blind Spot)

Summary: This takes place after Blind Spot. Alex's healing after her kidnapping ordeal.

B/A shippiness and plenty of angst.

Reviews: Please!

Disclaimer: I don't own CI, I don't make money from this, all the characters belong to Dick Wolf and his writers, yadda yadda yadda. You know the score.

A/N: this is my first CI story, so if I get any of the canon wrong, let me know.

Chapter 2

The coffee in my mug is nearly cold by the time I hear the front door open. A few moments later, Bobby is standing on the other side of my kitchen, more disheveled than usual. His hair stands up in whorls, his cheeks are dusted with stubble. The oxford shirt he's wearing is well wrinkled and buttoned incorrectly so one untucked tail is poking out from under his jacket, longer than the other. He looks like he either slept in his clothes and rolled out of bed to come here, or he didn't sleep at all.

"Alex," he says.

Not _Eames_, but _Alex._

_Alex._

The sound of his hoarse, low voice causes heavy heat to fill my chest, constricting both breath and thought. Suddenly, I drop my head into my hands and begin crying uncontrollably. I don't hear him move from the door, but a moment later Bobby's arm is around my shoulders and he's murmuring, "It's okay. You're going to be alright, Alex. Shhhh…"

For a while, my harsh choked sobs and his soft words are the only sounds between us. I feel unmoored, out of control- unable to stop. It's been a long time since I cried…tears are a weakness that I can't afford. Stoicism has always been my shield against the shit I see every day. You can't cry if you're a cop…especially not a female cop. Tears blind you and make you emotionally vulnerable. Tears make you weak. Tears will kill you as surely as a bullet- it just takes a little longer.

Finally I take a shaking breath to rein myself in, and palm the tears from my cheeks. "I'm sorry," I whisper. Bobby is still kneeling, his arm around me, but I can't bring myself to look at him.

"You have _nothing_ to apologize for," the vehemence in his voice takes me by surprise. One big hand cups my chin and I meet his gaze, "_Nothing_."

"Bobby-"

"Wait," he says, letting go of my chin to pull up another kitchen chair. We're sitting so close that our knees touch. I can feel the nervous energy in him like an electric current. "Don't say anything else. Just let me talk." When I nod, he begins to speak urgently, "I've been wanting to say this to you for a long time now but you've been cutting me off every chance you get."

"I haven't-"

He continued right over me, "Yes, you have. You told me you were done talking about Jo that day at the range and you've been turning a cold shoulder to me since then. I deserve better than that."

Anger flared, "I haven't been turning a cold shoulder!"

"Then let me apologize to you."

"You already-"

"No!" He shook his head. "Just shut up and listen. I want you to hear me, Alex," he leaned in, "We've been partners for six years- that's longer than some people stay married. You and I spend the better part of our waking hours working together on some of the worst shit out there. You've always got my back...I depend on you." He sucked in a breath and looked away, "I just….I need to tell you why I failed you."

Normally I would have shot him a sarcastic remark about his lack of perfection. But maybe I needed to hear this as much as he needed to tell it because I said nothing.

"You depend on me, and I failed you. You said it yourself, Alex: 'It was all so obvious'. So why didn't I see it?" Bobby scrubbed at his face with one hand, stubble rasping against his palm. "I didn't see it because I was wrapped up with Declan. Declan and his damn obsession with Sebastian!"

He stood suddenly and began pacing the length of kitchen, voice taut with anger, "But I was there when Jo came into the station. I _saw_ how Declan completely ignored her once he realized you and I were on the case. I _saw_ how she reacted! But I was blinded by pride and by my attempts at showing Declan how much the student has surpassed the master.

"Jo is the classic high functioning sociopath- it was all right there in front of me," Bobby came back to where I was sitting, "Declan was so self-centered that he twisted his own daughter into the kind of creature he has spent his whole life studying. I should have seen it a mile away- how dangerous Jo had become, how much she needed Declan to finally pay attention to her," he sat down to face me again, "I failed you, Alex, and I'm so sorry. You have every right to be angry with me….to doubt me…"

"I just want you to know that you are not only my partner and my friend….you're more than that." Now he was perfectly, eerily still, his dark brown eyes fixed intently on me, "When you were missing…when we were looking for you…Declan told me to remember procedure- to assume that you were already dead. But I couldn't do it, Alex. Imagining that you were gone…_" _ his expressive face twisted with remembered pain, "I didn't realize how much you mean to me until I thought I'd lost you."

"When I opened the trunk of your car and saw that body….I swore to myself that if, by some miracle, it wasn't you….if you came back to me alive….I would tell you the truth. I'd tell you how much you mean to me. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I stare wordlessly at him, remembering back to when Barek had come to visit me in the hospital. She had told me how Bobby had reacted when they realized that I'd been taken. _"It was like he was possessed, Alex. Nothing else mattered to him except finding you."_

"_Logan would have done the same thing for you," I'd said, but she shook her head._

"_No, it was more than that. I was there when we found the body in your car- the one that we all assumed was going to be you," she had leaned close, putting one warm hand over mine. "I think you and Goren need to talk. It's normal for partners to feel-" she arched an eyebrow at me, "more than just 'friendship' with each other. But if that's the case, you guys need to sort it out."_

_If it had been anyone else saying what she said, I would have blown a gasket. But Barek was as perceptive as Bobby was, in her own way, and I had to admit she was right. That's why there were so many damn regs about fraternization. Everyone knew it happened and when it did, the parties involved had two choices: cut it off and continue being partners, or split up professionally. It was too dangerous to be both lovers and partners. Too many emotions got involved and the consequences could be deadly. _

_After Barek left, I had spent a long time thinking about what she'd said. The best partnerships were a mix of intimacy and boundaries- you don't spend 12 hours a day, four or five days a week, with someone without learning about all their little quirks. And God, did Bobby have his quirks!_

_The two partners I'd had before Bobby had both been great guys. The first, Trent Royston, had taught me the ins and outs of being a beat cop. He had been nearly fifteen years my senior so it was natural for him to fall into a big brother role. I was always invited to his family gatherings and we were still on great terms. _

_Then there was Jerry, my Vice partner. Jerry and I were nearly the same age and he had been in Vice for just a couple of years before we got matched up. He hadn't been as easygoing as Trent, and we spent plenty of time arguing. Jerry was also a player- he had so many 'girlfriends' that I gave up keeping track of them. With his dark good looks and arrogant cockiness, he attracted women like crazy. There was always some scuttlebutt being tossed around the house about Jerry's escapades. So, once or twice in the deep morning hours of some dragging stake out, I might have briefly entertained the thought of what Jerry was like in bed. Very briefly, since Jerry was so not my type. _

_And then there was Bobby. He was so different with his manic energy, his intensity and, his scary intelligence. I was used to working cases based on hard facts. Bobby worked cases based on intuition. He had the ability to dip into the minds of the perps in _

_a strange, twisted empathy that could get seriously creepy._

_Our first few weeks together were so difficult that I half-considered going to the Captain for a reassignment. I didn't of course, and we learned to mesh our skills so we complemented each other. Major Case Squad was a tough assignment but we both loved the challenge. _

_In six years, we had become friends, sharing jokes and arguments, triumphs and frustrations. There had been plenty of late nights filled with bad coffee, greasy burgers and mounds of paperwork. We had supported each other through work and personal crises. I had been there when Bobby had agonized over and finally made the decision to put his mother into a home. Bobby had been there for me on the dark night that marked the 10th anniversary of John's murder. _

_We had each saved the other's life more than once. _

_So when, in the last six years, did my feelings of friendship become more? When did I start craving his myriad casual caresses? He was always touching me: in the small of my back as he held open a door, on the shoulder as he handed me a cup of coffee. When did his habit of sitting practically on top of me when we were working a file become less of an annoyance and more of a pleasure? When did I start getting an electric thrill when our knees brushed under a desk or table?_

Those had been my thoughts as I sat in my hospital room nearly a month ago. The truth of it had scared the crap out of me: I had fallen in love with Bobby. But there was no way in hell I could admit it to him or anyone else. Rules and regs aside, I didn't want my stupid emotions to foul up the best partnership and friendship I'd ever had.

The next morning I had checked myself out against doctor's orders and retreated home. I had ignored Bobby's calls even though I needed him so badly that it hurt. Instead of taking his comfort, I began the process of forcing myself to fall out of love with him. I thought I'd done it, too.

But now, sitting here with him only inches away, I realize how wrong I'd been. I _needed_ this man. I needed his strength, his patience and courage to help me through this dark place I was in. I needed him now and I needed him for the rest of my life. I was just terrified of the consequences if I told him so.

_I need you_, I thought, but I couldn't say it.

Bobby had been watching me intently during my long silence. He sat as still as I'd ever seen him, big frame perched on the edge of the chair and leaning close into me. His composure began to crumble at my unresponsiveness. "I'm sorry, Alex," he said hoarsely, dropping his head into his hands, but not before I saw the tears in his eyes.

_I need you, Bobby! _Why can't I just say it?

His wide shoulders hunch with pain and a strangled sound escapes from between his fingers. His head is bent over my lap now, we are sitting so close together but not quite touching….

"I need you, Bobby."

_Did I say that? Oh God, did I really just say that?_

"I need you," I say it again before my courage fails me.

Bobby's head comes up and he is staring at me with a mixture of hope and caution. I put my hands to his face, words coming out of me in a rush: "When…when I was in that room with Jo…I thought that was it. I thought I was going to die and you know what I wanted more than anything? To see the people that I loved one more time. I wanted to see my parents. I wanted to see my sister and little Dylan. I wanted to see _you_."

Without thinking, I lean forward, pulling him toward me and suddenly my lips are on his.

_Oh_.

It's a chaste kiss for only a moment, then Bobby's hands drop to my hips to pull me into his lap. I'm breathless with the taste and smell of him so close. The world shrinks to this place and this moment where I finally feel safe, enveloped by his arms.

I make a sound of protest when he pulls away from me. "Wait," he rasps. It's all he says but I know him so well I hear the unspoken words: _Are you sure this is what you want?_

I meet his eyes, so dark with emotion and desire that they're nearly black. "I need you," I say for the third time.

Then Bobby is cradling me in his arms as he carries me into my bedroom. The sky outside the windows is the palest shade of blue-grey, casting a dim pre-dawn glow over us as he gently undresses first me and then himself. We lie together under the quilts and begin to unhurriedly kiss again.

Time becomes lost to me. There's only the feel of his body under my hands- so strangely familiar- and the sweet taste of him on my lips. He traces spirals over my skin with mouth and tongue, whispering my name and words I cannot understand in languages I don't know. But it doesn't matter- I'm melting into him with soft abandoned cries.

Then I feel him in me and over me and we're moving together without coherent thought in a slow rhythm that seems to last an eternity. When my world starts to fragment, I open my eyes to see Bobby's gaze locked on mine. And then he's saying my name over and over, his strength lifting me and enveloping me in an unspoken promise of love as the rosy light of a new day fills the air.

_fin_


End file.
